I Am A Joke
by blueholly
Summary: Lily's Journal. Updated Daily. ‘Oh Lily. He gave you a New Year’s kiss, remember? And then you said, “Thank you. You smell like pickles.”'
1. Dec 25: CHRISTMAS!

**25 December** - OH MY GOLLY GOSH CHRISTMAS

_5.30am_ I am up. It is Christmas. I have had three cups of coffee to ensure maximum present appreciation. (It would look bad if I fell asleep while opening gifts. Ungrateful and such.)

_5.35am _Woo! I actually got some lovely gifts this year. Stellar stellar stellar. Petunia gave me a copy of the Bible with "Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live" underlined and bookmarked. Har bloody har. But Potter was actually really thoughtful for once. Instead of sending me some garish piece of jewelry with the words "LETZ B SOULMATEZ" stamped across it in rhinestones (3rd year), he put together a little notebook of all the books that my favourite professors recommend I read. Add to that books, a purse and nice shoes from the parental units, and miscellaneous gag gifts from various Hogwarts friends.

Anyway. Sitting on my bed debating whether or not I should send Potter back his present as per usual. Would it be cheating if I copied out all the lists first and then just made him _think_ I sent it back without looking through it? Would that just be plain _mean_? I mean… I usually send back his present because I object to it so much; it's much easier to reject socks charmed to chant love poems (4th year) than to return something that obviously took a lot of thought. Blaaaaargh.

Perhaps I will sleep on it.

_5.45am_ Note to self: Coffee _works_. Do not use if sleep is anywhere in foreseeable future (ie. The next six years or so)

_7.30am_ I actually got to sleep! And then I woke up and called Alice. Get this: SHE WASN'T AWAKE YET! ON CHRISTMAS DAY! In _fact_, she had the gall to inform me that (and I quote pretty much directly) '-no one else has gotten up so bloody early in the morning for Christmas since they were about three years old so go back to sleep and stop jabbering on about James fucking Potter's tacky present.' I was very annoyed and tried to explain that the present _wasn't _tacky, and this was why I had called her in first place, and wasn't she listening at all? But she hung up.

_List for self of people who are bad friends and should never be called in times of crisis:_

Alice

(Note to self: Remember to add more friends to this later. Perhaps make other bad friends just so that this list looks somewhat less ridiculous)

_9:35am_ The rest of my family is opening presents. I feel rather left out. They should plan ahead for things like this and store my presents under a secret floorboard or locked safe and only take them out right about now so that I don't spend most of Christmas feeling depressed.

_9.36am_ Alternative solution: They should buy me more presents and then have many present opening ceremonies throughout the day.

_9.37am_ Better alterative: They should buy me so many presents that it takes all day to open all of them. Yes. I am a genius.

_9.38am_ Slightly less good but probably more feasible alternative: They should make the wrapping so complicated on the presents they do get me that it takes me all day to unwrap them. Perhaps puzzle locks are in order. I will see what I can do.

--

_2.45pm_ Mmmm… food coma. Honestly, if I could be in any state of existence all the time, it would be this one. So. Much. Turkey.

ALSO. After much deliberation, I have made my decision about the Potter situation. I am keeping the present. BUT. He is _not_ getting a thank you card. If this seems rude, then please keep in mind that the stationary set that Alice gave me for Christmas (which is very hilarious and full of jokes about ducks) only has ten cards in it. And I have to send eight cards out as thank yous (if you count Alice), and that only leaves two cards. And I _always _keep two cards in each stationary set because I need one just to save for memories and the other in case there is an emergency in which I think that a card from a certain set would be absolutely perfect for a certain person.

Obviously I cannot possibly give Potter the emergency card. There is no emergency that makes duck-related jokes super appropriately relevant to him. Therefore I am perfectly justified in not thanking him for his present.

Oh my god. Does this make me a horrible person? I should have gotten coal.

_2.48pm_ Have decided this is a ploy on Potter's part to make me feel guilty and bad about myself. He is such a jerk. Jerks don't deserve thank you cards.

Final Verdict: I am a good person after all.


	2. Dec 26: Not Christmas

**26 December** - Boxes. Blah.

_10.30am_ It's always on Boxing Day that I get very excited about leftovers, and then realize that all the dark, delicious bits of the turkey were eaten on Christmas day, so I have a never-ending future of turkey leftover sandwiches looming. And suddenly Hogwarts (with it's lovely daily banquet that never seems to involve leftovers ever ever ever) seems like an entirely appealing proposition.

Except not because I have all sort of Head Girlish duties to attend to. I adopted the 'It-is-the-holidays-and-I-will-have-plenty-of-time-to-sort-out-work-after-christmas' strategy. In retrospect this obviously seems like a less than genius plan.

Oh well.

_List of things to do:_

1. APPLY TO MEDICAL PROGRAMS. Oh my golly gosh I am going to look like an irresponsible twat if I do not get these in before February (at least). And yes, I _am_ an irresponsible twat. The plan was to keep that concealed from the examiners until _after_ they had let me slip into their ranks, at which point I might cunningly reveal "AHA! I AM CLUMSY AND FORGETTFUL AND TERRIBLE AT LIFE" and cackle with glee at their inability to do anything about it. Must work on this.

2. Thank you cards. But not for Potter. For very sensible reasons previously explained which absolve me of all guilt.

3. Contact Potter about Headish sorts of things nevertheless.

4. Before contacting Potter, make a list of important Head Girl sorts of things that should be discussed. These being the things that I knew really needed to be addressed when I first left school, but failed to write down… and have since sort of forgotten. Maybe if the list is long enough I will not have time to mention the present.

5. Pack things EARLY. This way I will not unpack my trunk and discover that I have packed sixty two scarves and no underwear or shampoo. That really only needs to happen once.

6. Stop obsessing about his stupid present. It's not even a very good present.

7. Remus probably gave him the idea.

8. Maybe Remus even put the whole thing together.

9. Maybe I should send Remus a thank you card? Remus likes ducks, right? He seems like an emergency duck joke kind of person.

10. Ugh. Go to psychologist. Get head checked.

11. Would that look bad on my medical application? As doctors they probably have access to my medical history, including (but not limited to) visits to the psychiatrist. They might frown on my visit, as they would not understand that a Christmas present has the power to really throw one for a loop.

12. STOP WASTING TIME WONDERING ABOUT HYPOTHETICAL VISITS TO THE PSYCHIATRIST. _DO_ THE THINGS ON THINGS TO DO LIST INSTEAD OF ADDING USELESS THINGS TO SAID LIST.

_10.55am_ _List of pressing Head Girl issues:_

The Head Girl is going insane.

Gaaaah. I need cookies. Or pie. Or turkey leftovers.

_11.03am_ FUCK. ONLY WHITE BITS OF TURKEY LEFT. Boxing day is the worst.


	3. Dec 27: Not Even Boxing Day Anymore

**27****th**** December **– Not even a holiday. Blah.

_10.30am_ My own mother just forced me out of my lovely (and warm) bed in a most unceremonious fashion. According to her logic, if I can wake up at 5.30 on Christmas Day, I should have the decency to wake up before noon the rest of the year.

I tried to explain the concept of 'looking forward to presents' to no avail. I even went to far as to suggest that she might purchase me a present each day in order to make the concept of waking up as appealing as it was on Christmas Day. This idea suffered the same fate as most of my genius plans. Being so gifted can be a very punishing fate. (Harr! Gifted! Punny!) (Note to Lily from Lily: Kill yourself)

_Anyway_. Now that I am awake I have to face the daunting task of writing Potter a very official letter about all the important Head Girl things I can't remember… so that I can honestly tell Dumbledore that I wrote him. Though maybe it would be better if I wrote him at midnight the day before we go back so that he hasn't got a chance to reply and I can make lots of tutting sounds and tell Dumbledore that Potter failed to correspond with me over the break. And that he should be replaced. With a gorgeous male model slash musician slash intellectual. Ingenious.

_11.46am_ Oh my god. What if he writes me first? That would be unacceptable. To the max. I will write out a rough draft here.

Dear James Potter, _(Scratch the 'Dear')_ _(Also, the 'James')_

We have lots of important things to discuss. About our duties. Something about prefect schedules? I'm pretty sure I ranted to you at the end of the term and you took notes? Please, please, PLEASE tell me you still have those notes.

I mean, I remember everything of course. Because I have lots of brilliant mental abilities (one of which is remember things very well). I just wanted to make sure that _you_ remembered everything because otherwise you might not have known what we were meant to be working on over the break, and might have spent said break making and eating cookies and doing other stupid, frivolous things like that. Hopefully not, because that would not be very Head Boyish.

Yes. Well.

Lily Evans

P.S. Thanks for the Christmas present. It was actually pretty nice. _(Scratch the postscript. Postscripts are for weenies.)_

I am a total mess. Ugh. It doesn't even matter. I will just send this. Anyway, it's only Potter. He probably won't even read it.

Actually that would be perfect. Maybe he won't read the letter, but _will_ happen to send me his notes about the things we are meant to accomplish.

He will do this because he is irresponsible and will want me to do all the work. Typical.

--

_2.30pm _I am a champion. I have finished all my thank you cards. I have sort of started my Healer Applications (I have looked at them! And filled in my name at the top!). I have not done anything else on my list, but have decided that I don't really care. I have _forever_ before Hogwarts starts back up again, so my progress has honestly been an impressive example of my unending self-restraint. _Ha ha ha_. Whatever. I will have loads of time to be responsible when I am old and have arthritis etc.

So. Instead of working on things, I rang Mary. She always sort of becomes my best friend over the break because she is much more skilled with a Muggle telephone than Alice (who is basically only good at hanging up the phone on me in the middle of very important discussions) and can therefore be relied on for many giggles. Also, we don't talk much when we're at school, so we don't get totally sick of each other by the end of term. (Read: I do not feel like murdering her and dancing on her grave, like I sometimes do with Alice.)

Anyway. I was making pasta while I talked to her, and then I accidentally held the colander out over the floor instead of the sink (I was focusing on our super captivating conversation about beluga whales) and poured the pasta (plus boiling hot water) all over the ground. And then I did a weird, reflexive hop/skip/flail thing and threw noodles all over the place and dropped the phone (not into the water thank Merlin). Hilarious.

Note to self: Learn poise. Also grace.

_5.43pm _Rawr. I wish Potter would hurry up and respond already, so that I could subject his letter to merciless scrutiny and just generally find fault with it. Procrastinating is dull dull dull.

Note to self: Quit fooling self into picking up journal, supposedly with intention of writing down deep philosophical musings about life / being seventeen / other such deep, philosophical things. Especially since journal entries have increasingly been focused on whining about Potter. Lame.


	4. Dec 28: Holy Innocents Day?

**28****th**** December** – Holy Innocents' Day

_10.37am _Hmm. I copied out the name of the day from my mum's calendar because I figured that any random holiday was better than no holiday at all. But I'm not really clear as to who the Holy Innocents were, or why we are celebrating them. My first instinct was Jesus, but I'm pretty sure there was only one of him, thus rending the use of a plural somewhat questionable. Mysterious.

_10.55am_ Looked it up. The holy innocents were not a happy bunch (surprise!). Apparently Herod massacred a bunch of babies to prevent his throne from being usurped. Honestly, this seems a bit ridiculous, because by the time any one of those babies was old enough to take his throne, he'd be at least forty years old, right? Wasn't a forty-year-old man the Year 0 equivalent of old retired person with arthritis and other, similarly crippling old people diseases? Obviously Herod would be too bedridden with osteoporosis or whatever to care about some pesky throne usurper. (Note to self: Figure out what osteoporosis actually is. Ostrich osmosis? Something about pores? Like acne?)

I am getting off topic. My point is that this is a stupid thing to commemorate. "Millions of babies were killed on this very day a little less than two thousand years ago! Thrilling!"

_11.51am_ FINALLY. A letter from Potter. Quaffle, Potter's stupid owl, found his way into the house and sent Petunia into a snit before finding me. What kid of a moronic name is _Quaffle_, anyway? The owl happens to be a sort of reddish color, but the similarities end there.

But I spent the whole morning reading up on infanticide, and then rang Mary and tried to discuss baby killing with her (she hung up the phone- Alice's influence, perhaps?), and was half way through writing a letter to Amos about baby death before the letter came. I figured I should give the theme a very thorough examination, seeing as it only gets one day a year and all.

Anyway. Potter's letter is a welcome break. I'll copy it out and annotate as I go. There are lots of problems with it, as will soon be revealed.

_Dear Lily,_ (Presumptuous to the EXTREME. 'Dear'? 'Lily'? Who does he think he is, my best friend in the whole bloody world? Imagine.)

_I'm almost certain that you actually copied out that list as well- you tucked it into your transfiguration textbook because you were so sure you were going to revise for McG's next test over the break.  
_

(Alright yes, the notes are there. But what is he trying to imply? That I haven't been revising? I mean… it's true. I haven't opened my textbook all break. But he has no right to assume such things. For all he knows, I looked through it so often that I WORE DOWN THE PAGES with all my studying, and as such accidentally wore down the list too. That is a much more reasonable assumption.)

_Here's another copy of the list enclosed all the same. Would you like to meet up on the twenty-ninth to discuss things? We should finish planning before the usual blimpload of schoolwork overwhelms us, and it's always easier to discuss things face to face instead of by letter. The 29__th__ is best for me, but the 2__nd__ or 3__rd__ also work. But if we absolutely have to, I'm sure we can do everything pretty well (if a little hurriedly) on the train to school. _

(Ugh. Where do I even _begin_? First of all, the poorly concealed request for a date. Honestly, you'd think Potter would have more subtlety. I actually thought he was finished with the obnoxious dating requests, but obviously I thought wrong. And then he tries to guilt-trip me into coming with his whole _thing_… with the _train_… and the _dates._ Obviously I am having trouble describing exactly what I find so troubling about those last two lines, but there is some sinister about the way he's put things. I mean… "But if we absolutely have to, I'm sure we can do everything pretty well (if a little hurriedly) on the train to school." Who _says_ things like that?)

_Merry (belated) Christmas, _

(I'm not sure 'belated' even works that way. Probably not. James Potter _would_ use 'belated' in the most awkward way possible.)

_James _

Obviously this was entirely unacceptable. Ugh. Potter disgusts me. Also, notice that he deliberately forgot to mention the fact that I did not thank him for his Christmas present. More guilt? I think so.

I must work on a super cutting reply.

_1.06pm _Sent a copy of the offending letter to Heather, with a copy of annotations attached, and asked for advice as to how best to respond to such an offense. She sent me this foolish reply:

"Lily,

You're ridiculous. Suck it up and go to lunch on the 29th.

Love love love,

Heather"

_List for self of people who are bad friends and should never be rung/written in times of crisis:_

Alice

Heather

Possibly Mary? Though I guess infanticide that occurred two thousand years ago does not really constitute a 'crisis' anymore and that she might be forgiven for hanging up the phone.

_1.24pm _Maybe I should just go to lunch with him? I am super mature and can therefore deal with Potter for one measly meal.

Right?

Right.

In fact, he probably thought he would weasel his way out of his responsibilities by proposing to take me out on a poorly concealed excuse for a date, knowing that I would refuse because I always refuse to go on dates with him. Actually, he seemed almost over-eager to procrastinate and do all the work on the train instead. I have _news_ for you James Potter. Lily Evans is the most responsible thing since sliced bread, and will not let you get away with this so easily. I am _on_ to your less than cunning plot!

It is a very good thing I, Lily Evans, am Head Girl. Anyone else might easily fall for those hazel eyes and that lopsided grin, believing Potter to be a genuinely nice guy. Ha! He is super deceiving to the core! One need only examine every one of his actions in minute detail (as I have taken to doing) to discover that his every move is full of bad intentions and general malice.

I will deliver a very cutting acceptance letter.

_11.23pm _Fuck. Got distracted by a documentary about marine iguanas and forgot to reply to Potter's letter. Must now write speedy response and leave all cutting remarks etc. out of it due to lack of time. Will write rough draft here as per usual.

Potter,

Instead of lunch, can we just go to Florian Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour at around three tomorrow? Tomorrow is the twenty-ninth, in case you don't get this until the morning. I am writing it a bit late because I had a very important project that took up much of my afternoon. (I saved the lives of many baby animals and completed other such acts of charity, which is very time consuming. I'm sure you understand).

Lily Evans

P.S. Did you know lots of babies were murdered on the 28th thousands of years ago? Fun fact. (_Scratch postscript. Seriously, why do I keep writing these things?) _

Note to self: Remember to check and make sure that he does not try to order chocolate-cinnamon flavored ice cream. He ordered chocolate/cinnamon ice cream from Florian's the first day I met him (pre-first year). I am pretty sure it is part of some plot.

**--  
**

**Author's Babble: I don't usually add anything at the end, if only because I think it takes away from the story. **

**A few notes:**

I _**do**_** know what osteoporosis means/is, and what its roots are. **

**Lily's also a little more self-aware than she lets on. She is actually poking fun of herself a lot throughout this. But yes, most of her own foolishness sails right on over her head. **


	5. Dec 29: Thomas Someoneorother's Day

**29****th**** December **– Thomas Becket Day?

_8.45am_ Yes. I know I am totally reaching with this whole Thomas Becket thing, but I couldn't find anything else of interest on the 29th, so I went with it. I've decided not to look him up though, if only because that had somewhat disastrous results yesterday and ended in lots of unproductive time wasting. So my apologies to you, Thomas Becket, but I don't have time to read up on your whole life story

Also. This time next year I will potentially have another holiday here instead, since this day may go down in history as the day that I accidentally murdered James Potter for being such a little twerp. In order to avoid getting thrown in Azkaban for homicide, I am planning to undergo extensive preparation before 3 p.m.. Obviously this will not include any kind of primping. I am putting on my baggiest trousers and rattiest shirt so that he understands that this is not a date. At all.

I _will_ however, attempt to follow along with the lady in that yoga tape. I will do this in order to find my inner peace, so that James's antics to not force me into an incontrollable rage. Petunia got this tape weeks ago and absolutely swears by it. This is not much of a recommendation since Petunia is as temperamental as ever, but a yoga tape is better than nothing.

_9.30am_ I HATE YOGA.

Honestly. They hired a bloody contortionist to stand in front of a camera and fold her ludicrously supple body into pretzels, and then sold the video to normal human beings. I can't imagine that they actually think this nonsense is _calming_. The people who made this tape are probably sitting at their stupid desks chortling at the idea that so many foolish, gullible souls (their customers) are standing in front of their televisions attempting to do the 'Masticating Giraffe' or whatever ridiculous pose they have come up with.

"Har har har," these yoga executives are probably saying, "Imagine some non-contortionist attempting to fold her legs over her head and do the worm! She is probably becoming seriously injured! Good thing we also own St. Mungo's and will be able to charge her lots of money to become untangled!"

Assholes.

_10.31am_ In an attempt to calm myself down after the yoga disaster, I tried to make cookies. The cookies were disgusting, but I did manage to burn myself pretty badly, so that's a plus.

Argh. My super cunning plan to make myself very calm before facing Potter has backfired. I will just have to pray that he is civil.

_11.46am_ Changed out of gross shirt/pants and into favourite jumper and nice-ish jeans.

_11.48am _Changed out of nice-ish jeans into less nice jeans.

_11.49am _Less nice jeans have a stain. Back in nice jeans again.

_11.51am _Aaargh. I wish I was a cavewoman and never had to worry about clothes ever again.

_11.52am_ I can't remember if this is actually my favourite jumper…?

_2.30pm _DOOOOOOOOM.

_4.30pm_ Well. That went better than expected. Potter did not order chocolate-cinnamon ice cream, and I did not have the sudden urge to kill him at any point during the meeting.

Things started off a bit awkwardly though. Some sample dialogue:

Potter: Um. Evans? If you don't mind me asking, why are you sticking your finger in your ice cream?

Me: Ooh. Er. I burned my finger this morning making cookies. It still kind of hurts.

Potter: Here, let me see.

Me: NO. You will only make it worse.

Potter: I was just going to perform a healing spell.

Me: Why didn't I think of that?

Potter (with his stupid 'bemused' expression that he uses to rub the fact that I have done something foolish in my face): Um… not sure. I thought you want to be a Healer?

A snide remark that was totally uncalled for. I sort of shoved my hand towards him and accidentally slash on purpose dripped some raspberry ice cream on his shirt. But he didn't even notice and just kind of started examining my hand before he healed it. Now that I think about it, Potter may have a hand fetish. He was super fixated. Very creepy.

I have to say though, my hand felt about two hundred percent better, and it was a lot easier to focus on planning patrol schedules etc. We're holding a workshop with the first years to make sure that they've all transitioned into Hogawarts properly and are not on the verge of offing themselves**,** and we're sort of maybe planning some stupid dance. I plan to foist said dance off on the prefects as soon as possible. In order to make that transition easier, I was very vague during our planning session today. The less we have done, the easier it should be to get someone else to take over and come up with his/her own ideas. So here's how that bit of conversation went.

Potter: So. The dance?

Me: Oh, did we definitely decide it was a dance then?

Potter (giving me his 'Oh dear, Evans has gone crazy' look… which was totally unwarranted) Yes, Evans. We voted at the end of term.

Me: Right. I just thought there might be some leeway.

Potter: Leeway? Do you have some other event in mind?

Me: I mean… a dance is fine. I guess.

Potter: Okay. (He paused and just sort of looked at me) What kind of theme should have?

Me: I'm not a big 'theme' fan.

Potter: You're not a big _theme_ fan? That's seriously your answer?

Me: Maybe it's just the word 'theme'. Very awkward. Doesn't roll off the tongue well at all.

HA! I am so good at being evasive. This went on for about ten minutes, and eventually we decided _absolutely nothing_. Masterful.

And then he got a bit stressed because he had made all kinds of elaborate plans for other pressing Head issues - stupid things like future alumni funds for our Year, and trying to petition for vegan food so that Sarah Liffleton will finally get a decent meal at Hogwarts. These were issues I was super frantic about while I was at Hogwarts, but they sort of drifted to the back of my mind over the holidays. _Apparently_, I insisted that we plan these things out over break though, and Potter was foolish enough to actually go ahead and _do_ just that. So he got all prissy towards me because I had done nothing at all, even though I made a perfectly believable excuse about having left all my detailed notes at home.

We actually ended things rather chummily though. He teased me about my healing apps for a little bit, and then we had a bit of a laugh at McGonagall's expense. And for a minute there I forgot he was my sworn archenemy.

But then he tried to pay for all the ice cream and we fell back into the usual, comforting routine of being annoyed with each other. Stellar.

--

_2.20am _I know it's technically tomorrow, but I don't have time to come up with some stupid holiday etc.

Just had a very strange dream about Potter. Am questioning own sanity. In the dream, we (Potter and I) were sitting on a couch in the Head's common room, playing Trivial Pursuit. Except he reached over and gave me a quick kiss on the lips halfway through, as if it were nothing at all. And then asked me a question about Kuala Lumpur.

What on earth is wrong with my mind? Wizards don't even know Trivial Pursuit exists.

**Dear Fanfiction: I honestly was enjoying writing this story, but I've posted five chapters so far, and received only three reviews. Obviously, no one else is enjoying this quite as much as I am, so I think I might put a stop to it now. I love little writing projects like this, but I don't really have the energy to update daily without some kind of encouragement. **

**Hopefully those of you that read it enjoyed the story. **


	6. Dec 30: New Years Eve Eve

**(Thanks guys.)**

30th December – New Year's Eve Eve

_10.30am _I have no time for holidays. There are more pressing issues to be addressed, namely the fact that I have obviously gone off my rocker. _Apparently_, I decided last night that I really wanted to remember that weird dream about Potter until the end of time, and therefore thought that it deserved a spot in my journal. Also, in my crazed, half-sleeping state, only the Trivial Pursuit facet of the dream struck me as odd, and not the whole 'Oh, Potter just casually_ kissed_ me. In a _dream. _That _I_ was having.' thing.

I have been wracking my brains all morning for a sensible explanation. (All morning being the six or seven minutes I have been awake.) Here are the possibilities I have come up with so far:

1. I feel guilty for having done nothing over the Christmas holidays, and so my subconscious is plaguing me with nightmares in order to extract some kind of karmic repayment.

2. I twisted some crucial part of my spinal cord while doing yoga yesterday, and my nerve endings are sending curious impulses to some reptilian part of my brain, which has been producing strange images as a result. If this is the case, then I believe it is fully within my rights to sue those smug yoga executives for not placing warnings on their packaging. (eg. Warning: May cause ridiculous amount of pain/stress, and/or damage your spinal cord to such an extent that said organ causes you to have nightmares about people who you strongly dislike.)

Note to self: Is spinal cord an organ? It would look bad in court if I called it an organ and it was actually a bone or a vein or something. Also. What is an ischium? I could not answer that question in the dream and it was super frustrating.

3. Maybe Potter did something to me when he was performing the healing spell? I let my guard down when he didn't order chocolate-cinnamon ice cream, but obviously he was just lulling me into a false sense of security.

I think these are very impressive given the short amount of time I have had to produce them. All three of these seem like super legitimate reasons grounded in very serious science. The solution to Possibility Number One is actually pretty simple: I should start really doing my work and thus minimize karmic debt in need of paying.

So. Time to do work.

_11.45am_ Forgot how boring work is. Taking a break in order to snack on cheese.

_11.46am_ Just realized that this particular block of cheese was actually meant to be part of our New Year's fondue. Am now faced with very difficult dilemma. Do I tell someone that I have eaten the cheese? Or do I make little mouse-like marks in the margarine and the jam and then call my mother over and say something convincing to the effect of, "Look Mum! Some clever mouse has worked out an ingenious fridge-opening strategy and eaten all our fondue cheese! I guess Petunia forgot to put out enough mousetraps. This is probably because she is a bad person. I guess I should be your favourite daughter forever and ever, huh?"

_11.48am_ Attempted to make little mouse marks in the margarine, but it was frozen very solid. I put it in the oven for a bit and it melted completely, so I had to use the butter instead. Also, I forgot what mouse feet looked like, so instead I sort of made it look like a very miniature deer broke into our fridge and had a little stroll through the dairy section.

_11.49am _Do deer even like cheese? This may be a very serious hole in my story.

_11.53am_ Thwarted.

I convinced my mum to come downstairs using some very clever trickery (I asked her if she would like a cup of tea).

Unfortunately, I was a bit less cunning about getting her to look at the butter. Our conversation went a little something like this:

Me: Mummy, do you think you could get me some butter?

Mum: Why?

Me: Er… for my tea. It's a newfangled teenager thing. You wouldn't understand. Very avant-garde and such.

(Mum goes over and fetches the butter from the fridge. I wait expectantly)

Mum: Lily. Why have you gone and stuck your fingernails into the butter?

Me: (with perfect composure) What? Let me see? (I pause to study the butter. Much humming and squinting and other indications of deep thought.) Fingernails you say? No. In my expert opinion, these look much more like miniature deer tracks. We had better check on the cheese mum. Miniature deer love cheese. Let me be very clear, whether or not their larger counterparts share in this particular predilection, I can assure you that miniature deer are cheese _fiends_.

Mum was not pleased. I retreated to my room, informing her that I had much studying to do and really could waste no more time on this mystery.

_1.03pm_

A Poem About Work (By Lily Evans)

Transfiguration is dull

Arithmancy is worse

And being Head Girl

Is a terrible curse.

Who cares about potions?  
Really. What's the point

Of mixing goat blood

With a bunch of pig joints?

Healer apps take forever:

They ask endless questions

About livers and brains

And vile infections.

Note to self: Never write poetry ever again.

_2.07pm_ Naturally, _just_ when I had sort of gotten into the work swing of things and was really chugging my way along through a Charms essay, Quaffle came barreling into my window. Stupid Potter probably timed the arrival of his letter in order to disrupt my life to the maximum. Two o'clock is really a terrible time to send mail. It's just the time when things are sort of settling down after lunch and one is really focusing on work.

_Lily,_

_You promised you'd send me all your notes as soon as you got home? I don't mean to bother you, I was wondering if you had forgotten._

_James_

Ugh. He's like a bloody professor, nagging me about something that's barely even late yet. In fact, it's not late at _all_ since the deadline isn't until school starts back up, which is practically forever away.

Have prepared an amazing reply. Hopefully he will be devastated with guilt and feel like a totally inconsiderate jerk.

Potter,

My owl, Narwhal, died last night. So I couldn't send the notes. Sorry.

Lily Evans

A stroke of genius, I know. I even remembered to attach it to Quaffle's leg instead of using Narwhal to send it.

_3.30pm_ Another letter from Potter. I am not even going to dignify this one with an answer.

_Lily,_

_Your owl definitely did not die. If you haven't got any notes yet, don't worry about it. We can always do this on the train. _

_James_

I cannot believe his nerve! I mean… yes. It's true. Narwhal isn't dead (thank heavens). But what if she had been? How could anyone be so incredibly callous? And imagine how much it would have added to my grief if he had also accused me of not having done my work! (This assuming that I _had_ done the work and that Narwhal was actually dead).

Obviously, James Potter is an incredibly repulsive human being. Do you hear that subconscious? Have me play Trivial Pursuit with someone _else_ next time. Like the (unfortunately fictional) model/intellectual/athlete/lover that I hoped would be Head Boy. Anyone would be better than an unsympathetic, inconsiderate jerk like Potter.

I am not even going to dignify his letter with a response.

_3.40pm _

Potter,

I guess we can discuss things on the train if that's really what's easiest for you.

Lily Evans


	7. Dec 31: New Years Eve

**31****st**** December – **New Year's Eve!

_8.03a.m. _Gaaaaah. Panic panic panic. Alice is having a sleepover at her house as a New Year's celebration, and practically every girl in Gryffindor is invited. Actually, it was just going to be Alice, Heather, and me. But then Mary got wind of it (I may have accidentally said "Mary! Guess what! I am going to be at Alice's for the New Year at a super fun slumber party!" But honestly, it was a mistake anyone could have made.). Mary made a big fuss, so then it was Alice and Heather and Mary and I. (I? Me? I try to say it in a sentence and then I get all muddled because then the sentences get very confusing. So I repeat the sentences a few times... and they begin to sound very awkward. So I try to figure out some way to structute the sentence differently and therefore avoid the whole 'I' vs. 'me' problem altogether.) And then Eleanor invited herself. We had to invite everyone on our floor because they all worked it out and got super huffy and accused us of being elitists. Eventually all the Gryffindor girls sort of informed Alice that they were going to show up on New Year's Eve.

Anyway. Alice had a total meltdown about providing enough food slash entertainment to entertain forty people. I offered to cook, but she politely declined. I suspect this may be because I accidentally set a _tiny_ fire in her kitchen when we tried to make banana bread the Muggle way. So I am in charge of the entertainment instead.

Except I forgot.

So.

_Emergency List of Fun New Years Eve Party Activities_

1. Those little picture frames you decorate with dried noodles?

2. Knitting…?

Oh my God. I am terrible at party activities. If I had my way, we would all play Duck Duck Goose and Ring a Ring o' Roses. And then I would explain the history behind both games in great depth, which would prompt everyone to give me a standing ovation. Also, they would probably carry me around on their shoulders for a bit, and generally just shower me with compliments.

This is a disaster. I am an old woman! I like childrens' games and crocheting more than I like copious amount of alcohol! Seriously, I might as well retire now and go to a home for the elderly and play bridge around a little square table with other old people while we watch other people celebrate the New Year on a tiny, black-and-white television and reminisce about the good old days. Except I will not have had any 'good old days' and the old people will look at me with _pity in their eyes_ and say things like, "You spent your seventeenth New Year playing Hopscotch? When I was seventeen I went skinny dipping. In the ocean. With my model/musician/intellectual boyfriend. Also we were very drunk."

Whatever. At least I can still _play_ Hopscotch. Old people can't jump due to osteoporosis. (HA! I have successfully mastered that piece of vocabulary!)

_10.34am_ Asked my mum for good party activity ideas.

She suggested:

Blind Man's Buff

Simon Says

Mother May I

So at least I know where I get it from. Also, my father fell madly in love with her eventually, so obviously I am not totally and utterly doomed forever.

_10.43am _Oh my God, what if I am totally and utterly doomed forever? What if I meet the model/musician/intellectual of my dreams and then he decides that I am not enough of a party girl and runs of with a female model/musician/intellectual/party-girl instead????

_10.45am _Also. What if they invite me to their wedding? Do I reject them in a cold, aloof manner? Or do I say 'Actually I will be partying all day that day.' Or something else that is equally ironic?

--

_3.03pm_ I will just tell Alice I forgot. Someone will bring alcohol anyway, and then the problem with be solved.

_4.15pm _Just realized that I have not thought about what to wear. I usually just go over in jeans and a shirt and then change into my pyjamas with the little whales all over them. They are especially exciting pyjamas because they are footie pyjamas, and even have the little flaps that you can fold over your hands to keep them warm at night. I reserve them for special occasions such as this one.

_4.25pm_ Have just ransacked wardrobe for any pyjamas that might be considered normal. Stupid Alice. Stupid party. Stupid Gryffindor. What is the point of having a slumber party on New Years _anyway_? We all live at school together and have a slumber party _every single night_. Besides the whole falling-asleep-exhausted-after-a-long-night-of-homework thing. And the roommate-communication-being-reduced-to-a-series-of-grunts-by-about-halfway-through-the-term thing.

Note to self: Remember to purchase some pyjamas that do not fall into any of the following categories:

a) pyjames with marine animal themed prints

b) pyjamas with little hoods that pull up over the head- the little hoods that have googly eyes on the side and are yellow and have an orange visor that is meant to represent a duck bill

c) pyjamas that are the boxers and big t-shirts I wear to bed at Hogwarts.

_6.03pm_ Thought about dressing up before going, but then was distracted by the same documentary on marine iguanas as last time. It's really a very good documentary. I do love the BBC. Anyway. Off to Alice's.

_10.15pm_ I HATE EVERYONE. Especially Eleanor for inviting herself to our stupid party and then bringing the rest of stupid Gryffindor with her. Also. I hate Gryffindor. If I were Hufflepuff, I would probably be home alone right now, watching more documentaries about the ocean. I'm pretty sure I hate Alice as well for having a party in the first place. And Potter. I hate Potter. I hate him so much.

Because all the Gryffindor boys are here too now. Some girls invited their boyfriends. And then everyone just decided to come. And then Alice's house was too small for all one hundred and thirty four seventh year Gryffindors, so we all went into the park near her house. And there are boys. Did I say that? And normally I would not object to boys, except:

1. Potter is here.

2. I am wearing red flannel pajama bottoms and a yellow jumper slash pyjama topthat has a hood that makes me look like a duck. And I everyone else is in party clothing. And this is how I am starting the New Year.

3. I have had two alcoholic beverages already and am already feeling a little floogly.

4. I am not entirely sure floogly is a word.

5. POTTER IS _HERE_.

6. Actually the duck thing is pretty okay because I managed to convince a lot of people that duck-themed clothing is very 'in' in the Muggle world. Trendy and such.

7. I HATE YOU POTTTERRRR

8. I actually kind of want to play Duck Duck Goose, but that is not a game one proposes when boys are present.

9. The park is bloody cold. Because it is bloody NEW YEARS which is in the middle of bloody WINTER. At least I'm warmer than everyone else. Because they are wearing party clothes and I am wearing flannel pants and a jumper. Ha. Ha. Ha.

**--**

**  
I was going to make this longer and full of more stuff about the party and Potter's presence at it, but I actually am going to a party. Tomorrow will be very detailed, I promise. **

**Anyway. The main reason for my babble is to say THANK YOU SO MUCH to all of you. Really really really truly. **


	8. Jan 1: New Year's Day

**1****st**** January** – New Years!

_2.05pm_ Oh Lord. So much to do. But First. Resolutions!

_Lily Evan's List of New Year's Resolutions that she is Absolutely Going to Stick to this Year. No Seriously. It is Going to Happen._

1. I will never go to a Gryffindor party ever again. In fact, I will look into becoming a Hufflepuff.

2. I will become graceful in speech as well as in action.

3. I will quit thinking about Potter.

4. He will legitimately never cross my mind again. Or be included in my journal. Except today because I have to tell you about last night. But otherwise, he will not be mentioned. Ever.

5. I will be responsible, even during holidays.

6. I will study for NEWTS early, send in my healer applications early, and generally be early for things.

7. Similar to 3 & 4. I will stop writing about irrelevant things in my journal. (Except today). So my journal should read more like, "Today, I became Minister of Magic. Also, model/musician/intellectual finally proposed! And to think I was so nervous (even though I did not waste my time whining about it in my journal)! I guess my life is going to proceed in a very happy ever after kind of way."

8. I will be the best Head Girl ever. I am fully aware that this was my goal right before I started 7th year. BUT. There is still time. Right?

9. Urgh. My head still hurts.

_3.12pm _Am in Alice's kitchen, devouring the scones her father made. They are super delicious, so I have already had six.

Nearly everyone has left, so it's lovely and quiet.

_3.56pm _So. Last night.

I had a couple more drinks, which was not the best of ideas. And around eleven, Potter sort of sidled up to me. He was obviously not totally sober. I will transcribe our conversation to the best of my ability.

Me: Potter.

Potter: Yes, that is me.

Me: I. 'That is I'. Or is it 'me' after all?

Potter: Oh yes, absolutely. (And then there was a bit of silence while Potter studied me.) Lily. You are dressed like a duck.

Me: Fashion statement. Muggles.

Potter: I like ducks.

Me: No. You shouldn't like ducks. Then you would like duck jokes on your thank you cards and that would be a disaster.

Potter: I think you look cute. As a duck, I mean.

Me: Oh.

Potter: Yes.

Me: Yes.

Potter: Yes.

And _just_ when I was going to say something really witty (like 'Maybe') he leaned in and _kissed _me. Only he missed the middle of my mouth because my duck-bill visor got in the way, so it was a very awkward kind of kiss on the side. So he tried it _again_, and did much better the second time. And I may have responded a bit. But it was because I was drunk. And even as I was doing it, I was cursing Potter for being so absolutely disgraceful. And slimy. And just generally gross.

Plus it wasn't even midnight. Honestly. If it had been midnight and I had bumped into Potter just as the numbers were counting down and if he had kissed me _then_, then I would have been miffed. But eventually I would have been able to pass it off as wanting to kiss someone on the New Year, or just generally being drunk or something. Good luck for the year and all that rot. But _no_, James Potter decide to slap _two_ wet ones on me at 11:32pm on New Year's Eve. 11:32 is practically the least rationalizable time on the clock.

Also, to top it all off, he sort of stumbled backwards afterwards and said, "Ooh. Um. I hope Narwhal is okay. I can't remember if she's dead? Yes." And then he wandered off.

I spent the last twenty-eight minutes of the year trying to find Alice. Except everything was very confusing because it was dark, and a whole bunch of extra people I didn't know had come and joined us in the park. Hopefully they weren't Muggles, because someone sent up a pair of giant, floating, shining numbers to count off the last thirty seconds. Which really ought to have helped in my search for Alice, except they were a bit blinding after all that dark, so I just stumbled around for a while. I was sort of hoping that one of the random people who had shown up in the park would be a model/musician/intellectual, and that I would bump into him right at the end of the countdown. Instead, I almost ran into Potter on accident, but he didn't notice. He and Eliza Bingleworth were busy sticking their tongues so far down each others' throats that I am surprised it did not trigger their gag reflexes. (Potter's anyways.) They deserve each other.

Sean Davidson swooped down and gave me a peck on the cheek at 'zero', which was quite nice of him. I think I sat down on the grass with Sean afterwards and said something like, "Quack." (I said that a lot last night, because it seemed like a very hilarious joke at the time.) And then I sort of keeled over and fell asleep on his shoulder.

_4.03pm_ Actually, maybe that wasn't Sean Davidson I fell asleep on. Maybe Heather?

_4.05pm _Did Sean even kiss me, or was it Arnold?

_4.06pm_ Is it weird to write Sean a letter asking him to clarify?

_4.08pm _Also. Is it spelled Sean or Shawn? Or Shaun? I have never bothered to ask him. Will write Heather and ask.

_5.16pm_ Letter from Potter.

_Evans,_

_Sorry I kissed you. Obviously I was pretty drunk. Hopefully we can just forget it happened?_

_James Potter_

So. I guess that's that. Normally, I would object to the use of the word 'obviously' (I mean… what is he trying to say? That there is no way he would kiss me under normal circumstances? That I am so repulsive that he considers kissing me to be below him? Or perhaps it was a round-a-bout comment about my duck costume.) I will stick to my New Year's Resolution, however, and not mention it. Or him.

_6.47pm _Letter from Heather

_Lily-love_,

_Martin Cooper gave you a New Year's kiss on the cheek, remember? You said, "Thank you. Your hair smells like pickles," before you barreled into Davidson. Maybe that's why you got mixed up? _

_You did fall asleep on my shoulder, yes. Though you should know that Potter helped me carry you into Alice's house after. Sorry. There was barely anyone left outside, so I had to go ask him to help.  
_

_Hope your brand new year has been lovely so far!_

_Heather_

_P.S. Davidson's name is 'Simon', not 'Sean'.  
_

Note to self: Remind Simon Davidson to enunciate. He is obviously making it very difficult for people to hear his name properly.


	9. Jan 2: Feast Day of Gaspar del Bufalo

**2****nd**** January**- Feast Day of Gaspar del Bufalo

_10.04am _I picked Gaspar del Bufalo to be the subject of my daily holiday because his name closely resembles the word 'Buffalo'. It turns out that he is not super exciting. I tried to look him up in the encyclopedia while I was enjoying breakfast, but was deterred by the large numbers of convoluted Italian names (eg. Annunziata). Honestly, who names their child Annunziata? That is just asking for said child to have trouble in school, because right from the first day they are behind all the Lukes and Ellas who can already spell their own names.

Also. Apparently, 'Szczesny' is a perfectly common name in Poland. This is hilarious to me.

_10.10am _Oops**.** I am a few hours in to the second day of the New Year, and I am already filling my journal up with nonsense, despite my firm promise to myself slash New Year's resolution.

But. I have a plan. I will have this journal for all my mad raving, and then a decoy journal. The decoy journal will have entries like this:

"Dear Only Journal That I Own,

Today, I contacted several important government officials about potentially starting a charity to promote/fund curing drug addicts, stopping whale slaughter and spreading world peace.

Then I wrote another section of my very serious book on current global issues of great weight. Let me just reiterate the fact that it is very serious and non-fictional. And also that the introduction is going to be written by someone very important in the poverty prevention world, whose books I have read because I am scholarly.

Very formally yours,

Lily Evans"

This way, when I am dead and biographers want to put together a best-selling book about my life, they will find and read this decoy journal. They will then inform the world that I was an incredibly intellectual person, even at a young age. (They will ignore the fact that my manuscript about pressing global issues is missing. They will assume that it was just too life-changingly amazing and had to be kept from the public eye.)

Without this cunning plan, I run the risk of having a biography that reads something like this:

"Lily Evans was a joke. When at Hogwarts, she spent much of her time breaking her New Year's Resolutions and having miniature breakdowns over boys. Also, she watched an inordinate amount of marine biology related documentaries, and spent the rest of her time devising ways of getting out of her Head Girl duties."

Should this version of my life story be published, then my only consolation will be that no-one bothered to write a biography about Potter.

_10.35am _Speaking of Potter. I never replied to Potter's last letter.

_Potter,_

_Agreed.  
_

_Lily Evans_

But what if he doesn't remember what I'm referring to? Maybe he kissed lots of girls last night, and he sent some of them invitations to dates or something? Then my letter might seem like an acceptance letter. And then Potter might feel like he had to let me down gently, which would be just about the most hideously embarrassing thing ever ever ever. I will try again.

_Potter,_

_I don't even remember kissing you. Maybe it was someone else with red hair. There was a girl with a duck outfit at the party who had red hair. Are you sure you didn't kiss her?_

_Lily Evans_

Hmm. No. Somehow, I don't think that he is going to fall for that one.

_Potter,_

_Kissing you was incredibly repulsive. The sooner we forget it ever happened, the happier I will be._

_Lily Evans_

Aaaargh. This is also unacceptable. Maybe I just won't reply at all. I like that. It kind of send the 'What kiss?' vibe. As though I had already forgotten about it. Which I practically have.

_3.14pm_ Spent most of the morning and early afternoon working on Healer applications. Then it hit me that I should also be applying to internships so that I will have a strong CV once I have left my medical training. I also realized that I have _mounds_ of homework to finish.

What have I been _doing_ all break?

_3.25pm _Just wasted ten minutes going through my journal trying to figure out what I had been wasting my time on over the holidays. Then I saw the irony in my actions and decided to waste some more time writing down these two sentences.

_4.15pm_ Rang Mary. Had a fifty-minute conversation with her about how much work we both had to do.

_4.16pm _Debating whether or not I should ring Alice. She will probably just hang up the phone anyway.

_6.03pm _Rang Alice. She did _not_ hang up the phone. Another two hours wasted. On the plus side, we had a long discussion about her New Year's Eve. Frank Longbottom _finally_ asked her out!

_6.04pm_ I can't believe it took her two days to tell me.

_6.05pm_ What if I am so self-centered that no one ever wants to tell me anything? What if they all think that I will ignore their news and just harp on about my own super shallow problems?

_6.16pm _Just rang Alice again. Turns out she couldn't tell me because they were keeping it a secret, but that she is very bad at keeping secrets. I am not super self-centered after all. Hopefully.

Note to self: Do not tell Alice any more secrets.

_6.17pm _Aaaaaargh. School starts in TWO DAYS. DOOOOOOOOOOOM. Must focus.

_11.32pm _It is practically midnight and I am still working. McG sat us all down at the end of term and reminded us that this year is absolutely _life defining_ and that our future happiness depends almost entirely on our ability to self-discipline ourselves and to avoid procrastination.

I consider myself to be incredibly self-disciplined when I eat two pieces of pound cake instead of three. I am doomed.


End file.
